


Gamesmanship

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dark, Dark Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dubious Consent, M/M, Marijuana, Mind the Tags, Multi, Potentially Abusive Relationship, Pyrrhic Ending, Unhealthy Relationships, no happy ending, unrequited sylvain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25247317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Felix is happily dating Ashe, but everywhere he turns, Sylvain is there, reminding him of their high school relationship, poking at his current relationship, trying to reignite a flame Felix prefers to leave extinguished.How far will Sylvain go to get what he wants?How far will Felix let him go?
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 56
Kudos: 72





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE MIND THE FUCKING TAGS.** If you read past this point, you have been AMPLY FUCKING WARNED.
> 
> This fic contains:  
> \- Very dubious consent  
> \- Manipulative behavior to get sex  
> \- Terribly unhealthy relationships  
> \- Potentially abusive behavior in the context of a relationship  
> \- A ridiculously unflattering portrayal of Sylvain
> 
> I didn't write this to bash the ship. I just think the darker aspects of Sylvain are interesting. 
> 
> There is no happy ending. **You accept all of the above if you keep going.** I'm not your damn parent. Make your own choices here.

“I just think it’s weird,” Felix said.

“It’s just dinner,” Ashe said. 

“You don’t know him like I do.” 

“I know he’s your oldest friend. And anyway, it would be rude to cancel now.” 

“I know,” Felix grumbled. 

Ashe pulled into the parking lot and shut off the car, but didn’t unfasten his seatbelt. 

“Hey, are you actually not OK with this?” he said. “When Sylvain asked it didn’t sound like a big deal so I just said yes.” 

Felix exhaled through his nose. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. But “shouldn’t” didn’t squash the surge of annoyance and anxiety that prickled at his stomach.

Ashe leaned over, giving Felix a peck. “Do you want me to say I got sick? We can just go home.”

Ashe’s kiss had a calming effect. His whole presence had a calming effect, something Felix had had the privilege to learn over and over again for the past year. 

“No,” Felix said. “It’s fine.” 

He unfastened his seatbelt and stepped out of the car before Ashe could worry more. When Ashe exited the other side, Felix looped his arm through his boyfriend’s. They walked linked toward a pale square of a building, shoulders bumping together.

Ashe’s warmth soothed Felix’s nerves. It was just dinner. Who cared if Sylvain invited himself? Sylvain always invited himself: To parties, to movie nights, to dinners and shows and anywhere else Felix mentioned being.

Felix and Ashe stepped out of the warm night and into the restaurant. Ashe left him to chat with the host; he was likely charming the wits out of the poor man while inquiring about their reservation. A server approached, relieving the host and leading Ashe and Felix around a low wall the same cream color as the rest of the faux Italian stucco decorating the establishment. 

Sylvain was already sipping a glass of wine when the server showed them to the table.

“Hey, kids,” he said when Ashe and Felix joined him. “Too busy making out to be on time?”

Ashe laughed, but Felix clenched his teeth.

“Sorry about that,” Ashe said. “A bit more traffic than we expected.”

Sylvain flicked his wrist, exposing a silver watch with more technology in it than a damn fighter jet. He punched at something on the display. 

“Ah, yeah,” he said. “Looks like 95 was pretty backed up. You guys shoulda checked before heading over here.” 

He turned the contraption toward Ashe and Felix. “You know this thing will automatically re-route you when it sees traffic ahead?” 

Ashe squirmed beside Felix. “Oh, very neat.” 

“You should get one of these, Ashe,” Sylvain said. “It can do directions, books, games. You like cooking. It can even pull up recipes and stuff. Watch this.” He lifted the watch to his lips. “Pan, best wine with filet minjon.” 

The watch flickered. Sylvain’s phone buzzed. He held it up to face Ashe and Felix as a list of wine pairings scrolled by.

“Pretty cool, right?” Sylvain said. “Only a couple hundred bucks, too. The price of these things is really coming down. Anyone can afford ‘em these days.” 

Ashe just nodded, but Felix cycled right past annoyed and into angry. A “couple hundred bucks” might be nothing to Sylvain, or Felix, once upon a time, but it was a hell of a lot to most people – and basically inconceivable to Ashe, who was still supporting the siblings he’d raised. 

Felix longed to react, to strike back, to match Sylvain’s pettiness. He took Ashe’s hand, making a show of lifting it to his lips to kiss Ashe’s bare wrist. 

“I’ll check the traffic more carefully next time,” Felix said. 

“O-oh, it’s OK,” Ashe said. “We couldn’t have known. We don’t have anything as fancy as that watch.”

“We’ll do fine without it.” 

The public display managed to shut Sylvain up, momentarily. The tension eased as Sylvain moved on to chatter about girls, guys, his various misadventures. Food arrived, heaping plates of tagliolini con lobster ragu and contorni and orecchiette. The egregious mounds of pasta and pasta-like products made it even harder for Sylvain to keep blathering, though he certainly tried. 

By the time the check arrived, even Felix was smiling wryly at Sylvain’s latest tale of woe. 

“Yeah, probably not seeing her again,” Sylvain said.

Ashe laughed behind his hand. Felix rolled his eyes. 

Sylvain tossed his plastic on the table. “Credit card game.”

Felix’s smile hardened into a grimace. Ashe blanched. 

“No,” Felix said. “Pay for your own shit, Sylvain.”

“Aw, c’mon, it’s fun.”

“It’s not fun for me,” Felix said. He didn’t add that it was doubly unfun for Ashe, who could barely afford it, but he suspected he didn’t need to. 

They got the bill split – by force – and left, boxes of leftovers tucked under their arms. 

“I’m just gonna run to the bathroom before we go,” Ashe said, handing his box to Felix.

Felix nodded, trailing outside to escape the restaurant. Even in mid-summer, the night air felt cool compared to the confinement indoors. He sighed into the quiet darkness, reclining against the wall beside the door, shoulders easing down a tick.

He tensed when Sylvain slid up beside him, lighting a joint. 

“Go home,” Felix said.

“Oh, relax,” Sylvain said, taking a drag. He exhaled a pungent cloud. “I like a little after-dinner smoke.”

“I thought you quit.”

Sylvain just shrugged. He offered the joint to Felix. “You want?”

Felix grimaced. Some latent urge within him leapt up into his throat, but he shook his head. “Unlike you, when I say I quit, I actually quit.” 

Sylvain snorted a laugh. “Aren’t you so holy?” 

“Whatever.” 

Felix would have crossed his arms if the to-go boxes would have allowed it. As it was, both hands were occupied. He studied the dark parking lot instead, counting down the seconds until Ashe returned, but he could feel Sylvain’s eyes crawling over him.

Sylvain trailed a finger along Felix’s temple to tuck Felix’s hair behind his ear.

Felix jerked away. “What are you doing?”

“It’s long.”

“It’s always been long.”

Sylvain shrugged. “I guess. It’s nicer down, you know.”

“I like it up.”

“Then why even grow it out?”

“Who cares?” Felix snapped. “Because I want to.”

Sylvain leaned closer, his hand slipping from Felix’s ear down to his neck and around his shoulders. Felix could do little with his hands occupied but resist. 

“You know I always liked it that way,” Sylvain said, his breath puffing against Felix’s ear. It sent shivers down Felix’s spine, waves of hot and cold that warred in his gut.

“So?” he said.

Sylvain laughed, the sound so close it sent a cloud of heat brushing against Felix’s skin. Goosebumps spilled down his neck, no matter how hard Felix tried to shove the sensation aside. 

“You look so good with it down,” Sylvain said. “I think about it all the time. I think about the old times, you know, back in high school, when you would come over, when we’d have our little study sessions together. Not sure I learned all that much, to be honest.”

Felix wanted to tell him to shut up, to fuck off, but his jaw was locked shut, his whole body rigid with tension, with the things clashing inside him. He gripped the to-go boxes so tightly he thought he might punch his thumbs right through the cardboard. His heart hammered in his ears, frantic, urgent, blaring a warning. Why, then, was he so horribly still, frozen in place? 

“It was the best when you were on top,” Sylvain said. “Sitting on me, all that hair falling around you. I could see your face then. I liked watching you. I still like watching you, in my head at least.”

Felix jerked away, hard. The boxes spilled out of his hands, noodles and sauce and broccoli rabe splattering across the sidewalk. 

“Gods damn it,” Felix hissed, out of breath.

“Oh no, what happened?” 

Ashe had just emerged from the restaurant, his eyes bright in the ambient light from indoors. Guilt stabbed through Felix. He knew Ashe had justified the outing by counting it as “two meals,” depending on those leftovers for later. 

“Nothing,” Felix said. “I just dropped them. Sorry. I’ll go order you another.”

Felix hurried toward the doors, eager to be away from Sylvain, but Ashe caught him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He spoke softly, so only Felix could hear.

“Hey, are you OK? You look flushed.”

“I’m fine,” Felix grit.

Ashe scanned his face, grip tightening. “Let’s just go home, alright?” 

“I ruined your meal.”

“It’s fine. I just want to be home. Please.”

Felix let out a held breath. With Ashe there, calming him, soothing him with his very presence, he suddenly felt exhausted, his limbs heavy, like he’d just returned from a run. 

Ashe turned him, steering him around the food splashed across the sidewalk. Ashe waved a hasty goodbye to Sylvain as they passed; Felix just kept his head down, just kept walking, guided by Ashe’s arm around his shoulders. 

It wasn’t until they’d driven all the way back to Ashe’s apartment in silence that Ashe finally said, “What actually happened?”

Felix sighed. They were parked outside Ashe’s complex, two stories of pale apartments with balconies crowded with plants and bicycles and mismatched patio furniture. 

“Inside, OK?”

Ashe nodded. They ascended the metal stairs to the second floor and Ashe let them into the apartment. Felix kicked off his shoes, padded to Ashe’s room and settled on the edge of the bed. He was still stripping off his socks when Ashe sat beside him, patting him on the thigh. 

“Fine,” Felix said, but there was no bite behind it. “It was nothing. Honestly.”

“Seems like it was something.”

“Just Sylvain being … himself.” What was he supposed to say? It was true, more or less.

“Are you OK?”

That wasn’t the question Felix had expected next. Anyone else probably would have prodded more, would have dug around through questions Felix didn’t want to answer. 

Felix stroked a hand along Ashe’s jaw, taking in the man sitting beside him in the dark. Ashe merely watched him, expecting nothing, concerned but not pushing, not forcing or prying. Felix leaned forward, suddenly needing the feel of those soft lips against his own to ground him. 

“I’m fine now,” Felix said. 

Ashe placed his hand over Felix’s. “I’m sorry it wasn’t a fun night.”

A smile curled one side of Felix’s mouth. “It still might be.”

Ashe chewed at his lip, trying not to smirk.

Felix yanked Ashe to him, dragging him back to his mouth. They didn’t separate as they scrambled to push back onto the bed, and only did so reluctantly in their rush to discard clothing, to get their hands and mouths on everything they could reach. Felix felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he shed his pants and pushed Ashe down into the mattress.

#

Felix sat on the floor with his back against the couch. Ashe was nestled between his knees, leaning against his chest, Felix’s arms around his middle.

On the television, a person dressed like a frog unleashed a machine gun on an entire bar of unsuspecting patrons. Ashe laughed, the sound vibrating through Felix, and Felix tightened his arms around Ashe, sinking his nose into that warm silver hair.

He could care less about the movie. Felix didn’t grasp the concept of intentionally watching movies that were absolute shit, but Ingrid and Dorothea had been hosting bad movie nights for years now. Before Ashe, he would have skipped them, would have called the parties pointless. But Ashe loved the whole idea and, Felix had to confess, it could be amusing sneering at trash in a group.

The hero? (Felix honestly couldn’t tell) finished their carnage, standing victorious over what Felix had to presume were their many, many enemies. The frame froze on a ridiculous image of a person in a frog suit leaping into the air with a machine gun clutched in one hand. The credits flashed onto the screen.

Laughter mingled with scattered applause. 

“Well, that was … something,” Dimitri said. 

“It’s a classic of the genre,” Dorothea said. 

“Sure...” 

“What’s next?” Annette said, draped over a chair, and Mercedes. 

“Killer Mutant Monkey 5,” Dorothea said. “It’s a good one, so everyone, go get a drink, use the bathroom, whatever you need to do.”

Everyone shifted. Dimitri and Dedue stood, mostly just stretching after spending the whole movie cuddled up together. Annette bounced to her feet. Sylvain and Dorothea headed to the kitchen. 

Ashe crawled out of Felix’s hold. “You want anything? It sounds like I could use another drink for this one.”

“No, I’m good,” Felix said. 

“Alright.” Ashe stole a kiss on his way to his feet, then hurried toward the kitchen. 

Ingrid scooted right up to Felix’s side the moment Ashe was gone. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, wary.

“Oh, chill.” 

“You’re about to say something embarrassing, aren’t you?”

She slapped at his arm. “Can I be happy for you? Gods. It’s just really nice seeing you like this. You’ve been downright fucking chipper for the past year.”

“She’s right, you know,” Mercedes added.

“She is,” Dimitri agreed.

A flush washed through Felix’s face. “OK, I get it.” 

“It is not a thing to be ashamed of,” Dedue said. “Your happiness is in the interest of your friends.”

Felix knew he was right, knew they were all right, but that didn’t make it any less mortifying. 

Ingrid touched his arm. “It’s a good thing, Felix. You look better. You sound better. You just really seem happy. I’m glad.” Her tone hardened. “You better be treating him right.”

Felix rolled his eyes. 

“I’m joking. It’s obvious you adore each other. Just let us be happy for you.”

Felix jerked to his feet. “Fine,” he muttered. 

He started toward the kitchen, unable to take another second of flustering commentary. Maybe he really did need that drink before the next movie. It was all well and good for his friends to be supportive, but did they have to be so gross about it?

He froze when he rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen. 

Sylvain had Ashe blocked into a corner. Ashe’s back was against a section of countertop, Sylvain’s arms on either side of him, boxing him in, cutting off every exit. He was standing so close Ashe had to lean away to get any personal space at all. 

“You really think he’s happy, huh?” Sylvain was saying. “He gets bored with plain things, you know. Safe things. He can’t help himself. He’ll go looking for something more dangerous if he’s coddled for too long.”

To Felix’s surprise, Ashe laughed. “That so?”

“You don’t know him at all. You’re losing.”

“Didn’t realize we were competing.”

Ashe’s voice was as soft as ever, but color rose in Sylvain’s cheeks.

“We’ve been competing since the day you met him,” Sylvain said.

Heat boiled in Felix’s stomach. His teeth ground together; his hands balled into fists. He stormed in, grabbing Sylvain by the shoulder to shove him back. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Sylvain immediately put up his hands and took another step back. “Hey, relax, we were just talking. Right, Ashe?”

“Oh no,” Ashe said easily. “You were trying to intimidate me, I believe.” 

Sylvain blinked. If Felix had been a fraction less furious, he might have laughed. Instead, he pushed between Sylvain and Ashe. 

Felix put his back to Sylvain, looking right at Ashe. “Let’s go home,” he said.

“What about the next movie?” Ashe said.

“Fuck it.”

Ashe smiled, patting fondly at Felix’s chest. “We’ve both been drinking. One more movie won’t hurt.”

“But--”

“Let’s have a fun night.” He played with the fabric at the front of Felix’s shirt, smiling at Felix as though he hadn’t just been cornered and threatened. 

Felix wanted to sweep down and kiss him right then and there. It would be so satisfying seeing the look that put on Sylvain’s face, but he knew Ashe wasn’t one for petty public displays. Goddess, how had Felix kept someone so genuinely good and kind around for an entire year? 

Felix sighed, but relented. He never managed to put up much of an argument against Ashe. He leaned in, kissing him far more gently than he would have preferred, savoring not merely the taste of Ashe’s mouth, but also Sylvain’s snort behind him. Not the revenge Felix would liked in that moment, but the most he’d get away with.

Still ignoring Sylvain, he took Ashe’s hand and led him back to the living room.

His phone buzzed before the next movie began.

#

Sylvain grew discontent with unanswered texts, a fact Felix realized when he got a call at work.

“Sylvain? What the hell? This is my work phone.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t answering your other phone.”

“I’m at fucking work.”

“I know,” Sylvain said. “I needed to catch you.”

“You didn’t _need_ to do anything.” 

“Can you just listen for a second?” Sylvain said. “I want to see you.”

A rush of heat welled up in Felix’s belly. That phrasing surely hadn’t been accidental. “Absolutely not.”

“Not like _that_ ,” Sylvain said. “Gods, can you have just a tiny bit of faith in me? We’ve been friends forever.”

“That’s why I don’t--”

“OK, I get it. Listen, I really do just want to talk. And … apologize. We haven’t hung out in so long, just the two of us. We used to be friends, remember?” 

Felix grit his teeth, leaning forward on the desk in his cubicle and massaging his forehead. “You say that and yet...” 

“I know,” Sylvain said, remorse thick in his voice. “That’s why I want to see you – to say sorry. I mean it.” 

“It’s Ashe you should be apologizing to.”

“I’m starting with what I know. I’m working on it. C’mon, just give me a chance?”

Felix hesitated. Sylvain seemed to hold his breath on the other end of the phone. 

His cell buzzed, reminding him of the many messages he’d ignored, the many messages Ashe didn’t even know he was ignoring. The badgering had gone on far too long. Maybe, just maybe, he could put an end to it here and now.

“Fine,” Felix said. “Somewhere public.”

“There’s this bar--”

“Whatever. Text the address.”

He hung up, hands shaking.

His phone buzzed.

#

The warm scent of alcohol soaking into wood washed over Felix as soon as he stepped into the bar. The door was wood. The bar stools, the tables, the floor. They must have leveled an entire forest to make the damn, dingy place. A morose jukebox crouched in one corner, but Felix doubted it worked. Some sports game played on televisions mounted to the crossbeams at intervals.

Among all the drab brown, Felix spotted a flash of red. Instantly, his stomach tied itself in anxious knots. Why had he agreed to this? He steeled himself as he paced toward Sylvain, sliding onto the bar stool next to his.

The bartender set down a napkin. “What can I get you?” 

“Old-fashioned,” Felix said. “The well is fine.”

The bartender nodded and hurried off to mix the drink. Felix glanced over. Sylvain was smirking at him.

“What?”

“That’s a hard drink,” Sylvain said. 

“Well I don’t think they’re exactly mixing cocktails here, so what do you want me to order?” 

Sylvain put up his hands. “I wasn’t complaining. Just impressed. Never took you for much of an alcohol person.”

“I’m not.”

Sylvain relented, sipping his own drink. Felix watched Sylvain’s throat bob, watched the way the warm lighting of the bar dripped down his jaw, turned his skin warm as honey, highlighted the little beads of red stubble clinging to his cheeks. Sylvain was far more charming with his mouth busy, Felix thought. 

He shook himself. Goddess, it was going to be a long evening if he was thinking dumb shit like that already.

The drink arrived. Felix tore his gaze away, settled it firmly on the translucent amber liquid before him. He swirled in the syrup, turning the drink smoky and dark, concealing its contents. He took a sip, welcoming the burn that seeped down his throat. He should have been wary of the numbing sensation oozing into his blood, but it was so easy to just let it happen, to relax into the feeling and not think too hard about why caused it. 

“What do you want?” he said.

“Skipping right past the foreplay,” Sylvain said. “Never one to play games. How like you.”

Felix shot a withering glare at Sylvain. “Stop it. Say what you came here to say.” 

“Fuckin’ hell, Felix. I’m just trying to catch up with an old friend. Is that such a crime?” 

“In your case, it could be.”

Felix focused on the drink, taking a larger sip this time, welcoming the heat pooling in his stomach, ignoring the warmth spreading elsewhere. 

“Look, I am happy for you, you know that, right?” Sylvain said.

“Are you, though?”

“Come on, Fe.”

“I told you I hate that fucking nickname.”

Sylvain put up his hands again, placating, at least outwardly. 

“You seem happy,” Sylvain said. “That’s great. Really.”

Felix slammed his empty glass down a little too hard. “Then why are you acting like an asshole?” He’d gone through that first drink quickly, too eager for the blunting impact of the whiskey. It just felt so much better to bite and snarl without holding back for once. 

“Can I be a little jealous? Gods.”

“No.”

“It’s hard watching your best friend spend all his time with someone else.”

“Dimitri and Ingrid seem fine with it,” Felix said.

“Dimitri and Ingrid never dated you.”

Felix sighed. “We dated for, like, three seconds.”

“I liked it.”

Felix didn’t bother responding to that, despite the way that softness in Sylvian’s voice hammered fractures into the hard armor over his chest. He knew Sylvain was picking, knew he’d been slowly scraping at that armor for the better part of a year, searching for any weakness he might exploit. Felix had pushed back every time, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t getting exhausting. High school had been a disaster, he reminded himself. Some of the most miserable months of his life. Yet when Sylvain described it in pathetically wistful tones, Felix felt the plates protecting him give just a little.

The alcohol burned through Felix, mixing with a heat he hoped was merely anger. He didn’t even notice the bartender return until he heard Sylvain say, “One more for both of us. Put them on my tab.”

Felix snapped his head up. “I said one.”

“And you only got one,” Sylvain said. “I got the next one. You don’t have to drink it. It’s not like I’m gonna force you. I’m trying to be _nice_ , Fe.”

Sylvain offered a smile, perhaps a peace offering, but then he reached over and tucked Felix’s hair behind his ear. “You know I’m no good at this stuff. But I’m trying, alright?” 

Felix could still feel the phantom heat of those fingers against his temple after Sylvain withdrew his hand. It tightened the knots in his stomach, sent his thoughts scattering like marbles flung across concrete. He could only catch one or two before the rest slipped away.

Despite his protests, when the drink arrived Felix stirred the cloudy mixture, turning it darker, obscuring something that had started out so simple and clear, sipping at the sweet, sharp, simmering whiskey. It felt good going down his throat, tingling in his fingers and toes, blunting the tense, tight edges of his suspicion. He didn’t realize how heavy all that armor was until it started to give.

“I’m gonna try harder,” Sylvain said. He was hunching over his drink, staring down into the liquid. “I really am.” 

He sounded sincere, as far as Felix could tell. It was always hard to know with Sylvain, always hard to tell truth from bullshit. Felix should have been able to spot the difference by now, but he’d never been good at that sort of thing and Sylvain was more confusing than most. 

“Good,” Felix said, less sharply than he would have liked. 

Sylvain looked at him with hope, sending deeper fissures cracking through that plate over Felix’s chest.

“I don’t want to get cut out of your life,” Sylvain said. “Ashe is a nice guy. I like him. Really. I just get caught up in the game sometimes.”

“I know,” Felix said. 

“I’ll try to do better. He deserves that. You deserve that.” 

Felix’s voice softened unbidden. “Don’t you deserve to move on too? You can’t spend your life mourning some relationship that lasted, what, a couple months back in high school.”

Sylvain shrugged. “Felt like years to me. But I was a stupid kid. I was in love.”

Felix’s heart pounded against his ribs. The armor groaned under the strain. “You never said that.”

“I know,” Sylvain said. “Didn’t think I needed to. Assumed it was pretty obvious.” 

“It wasn’t.”

“Heh, right. Nothing’s obvious to you. Well,” he looked up, right into Felix’s eyes, “now you know.”

Felix wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that, so he concentrated on his drink instead. Clutching the glass was the only thing that kept his hand steady, but his heart thrummed like it was trying to escape. He felt raw, exposed, like he was standing naked in a storm, battered on every side.

His heartbeat never quite settled again, not for the rest of the night, not even as they moved on to safer, easier topics. 

The moment Felix realized how late it was and stood up, he regretted that second drink. The world tilted; his head felt light. He might have to call Ashe to get home. 

“If you can’t drive, can I return something to you?” Sylvain said when they’d exited the bar. 

They lingered in the warm night, loitering on the sidewalk. Felix knew he should leave, knew that every second he spent not walking away was more dangerous, more cloudy and uncertain, than the last.

“I’ve had it since high school,” Sylvain said, filling the silence, not giving Felix any empty space for clear thought, keeping them both there on the pavement. The light from the bar cut across his face, leaving most of it in darkness, highlighting only the softest parts, creating an illusion Felix felt himself falling inexorably into. 

“Always meant to give it back but just kept forgetting. But now you’re here and you can’t drive anyway. A little walk might sober you up. And I can finally get rid of the thing.” 

Felix knew he should have refused. He knew he should have reached for his phone, called Ashe, forgotten about his car, prepared to skip work with the hangover that was surely brewing. 

But he didn’t.

In the haze of the cool evening, he followed Sylvain, whispering lies to himself the whole way from the bar to the apartment. He’d just let Sylvain return the thing and then he’d go. He’d wait outside the apartment. He’d text Ashe along the way. 

Sylvain kept talking, chattering about nothing, his voice a constant hum in Felix’s mind, stirring up his thoughts, leaving them opaque. 

Felix wasn’t sure why he was still following Sylvain when they got in the elevator, standing too close, shoulders brushing together from the bump of the contraption as it drew them up, far from the ground and Felix’s car and everything safe and comprehensible. 

Sylvain touched the small of Felix’s back to nudge him out of the elevator, just a light brush of his fingertips, but it sent trembling heat into Felix’s gut. He dug his nails into his palms as he followed Sylvain down the hall and toward an apartment door. 

It didn’t help. 

When Sylvain unlocked his door and showed Felix inside, one final, despite cry rang in Felix’s mind, one pathetic _leave!_ that had no hope of rising above the frantic static churning up his thoughts. The click of the door closing behind him thundered through Felix’s chest, resounding with the finality of a hammer pounding home the fateful strike that would destroy his defenses.

Even if he’d wanted to, Felix didn’t get a chance to protest. The door closed. Felix turned. And Sylvain shoved him up against the wall, his mouth ravenous against Felix’s. 

Felix grabbed at his shirt – to push? to pull? he truly didn’t know anymore – and endured the kiss, endured the heat and lightning shocking his body. _Wrong, wrong, wrong!_ some voice within him screamed. But it could not penetrate the fog of the whiskey, the strength of Sylvain lifting him off his feet, the consuming frenzy boiling inside him. 

Sylvain didn’t give him time to think, his hands and mouth demanding Felix’s attention. Still, something cried out deep within Felix. A trickle of panic streaked through the consuming torrent that was Sylvain, a drop of bitter poison among the intoxication. 

It didn’t matter. The poison wasn’t strong enough; the panic warped to excitement. All of Felix’s protests blurred in the dark, smoothed away by Sylvain’s hands grabbing at his body, needy and hungry in a way that overwhelmed everything else. 

They stumbled into the doorframe as they entered Sylvain’s room. Felix hit the bed. For the briefest of moments, he was alone, unharried, his mind cooling back to coherence.

Then Sylvain was on him, tugging at his clothes, kissing down his neck, fumbling with zippers and buttons. His hands bruised in their urgency to grab at every exposed piece of Felix’s skin. Felix could do little but hold on and endure, lost in heat and pressure and darkness. 

Felix reached. He reached for Sylvain’s shirt, threw it across the room, raked his nails down bare skin, meaning to clutch, meaning to hurt. It was the only scrap of control he had left to him, so he dug in with every shred of fear and self-hatred screaming to be heard within him. Sylvain hissed and growled, his hands rough on Felix’s body, his teeth clawing tracks into Felix’s neck and collar and chest. No part of Felix went ignored; no part went unblemished. 

Felix closed his eyes, listened to the rasp of his own breath instead of the shrieking in his mind. He grit his teeth around moans. He wasn’t sure if he was crying out from pleasure or fear, but either way Sylvain kept going, pumping his cock, sucking and biting at his skin, grinding against Felix until their bodies sparked a fire Felix was helpless to extinguish. 

When Sylvain turned him over and pushed his face into the mattress, Felix gripped the sheets and hid his eyes against the comforter. It hurt. And it didn’t. And sometimes it did again. And sometimes it felt so good Felix wanted to weep.

“Use my name,” Sylvain rasped at his ear, pulling his hair to force his head out of the obscuring darkness of the sheets. 

“Fuck you,” Felix managed.

Sylvain just laughed and slammed back into him, making him cry out.

When it was over, Felix sat at the edge of the bed while Sylvain dozed. His body still hummed, still reverberated with traitorous pleasure, but a vice was tightening around his chest. He gripped the mattress, horribly sober.

A finger traced down his back, feeling the scars scratched into it this night.

“Sleep, Fe.” 

Felix jerked to his feet, gathering his clothes. Sylvain called after him, but made no move to stop him as he dressed and left.

#

He didn’t go home.

He could have. He was sober enough now. Horrifically sober enough.

Felix drove in circles, wasting gas, wasting time, headed nowhere. He made it to a park. It was too early for anyone but the types of runners who rose before the sun to pound out miles before work and get ahead of the game. 

Felix stayed in his car, reclining against the head rest, scrubbing at angry tears. 

“Fuck.” 

His phone buzzed. 

He wasn’t sure why he checked it, but the moment he glanced at the screen his blood went cold. 

_To: Fe, Ashe_

_From: Sylvain_

_I won._

He opened it with trembling fingers and found a photo. A photo of himself. He couldn’t be positive; the image was too blurry, snapped hastily in darkness. The angle was terrible, taken from behind, showing mostly someone’s back, someone’s long, loose, blue-black hair. Someone cleared being fucked. 

Felix’s mouth went dry. His heart plummeted into his feet. 

He threw his phone into the passenger seat. Too hard. It bounced to the floor and under the chair. 

Felix didn’t care. He never wanted to see the damn thing again. He folded his arms on the steering wheel, hiding his face against them as he trembled.

#

It was dark again when he finally returned home. He stepped into his apartment, unsurprised to find Ashe there on the couch.

Felix set his keys down, shutting the door softly. Everything was still and silent and clear. The TV was dark. Ashe was sitting in the middle of the apartment, his hands in his lap and head hanging, his whole body so terribly stationary. It wasn’t until Felix drew near that he smelled the marijuana. 

“Are you smoking?” Felix said, settling at the far edge of the couch.

Ashe took another drag, held it for several long, tense seconds, let it out in a slow cloud. When he looked up, his face was wet. He offered the joint to Felix. “Would you like some?”

Felix shook his head. His heart clogged his throat, but Ashe wasn’t moving, except to occasionally take another drag. Felix had all the time in the world to think.

He forced the words out. “Ashe, I’m sorry.” 

Ashe laughed, a short snort. Felix had never heard a laugh like that, not in the entire year they’d been together. Ashe’s laughs were always loud, joyous, unencumbered. They were beautiful things, precious things, like finding a whole unbroken sand dollar among shards of crushed shells.

No longer. 

“I don’t know how it happened,” Felix rushed on. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t even want to. He said he wanted to apologize. And he did, at first. But he ordered a second drink. I didn’t even want it. He just ordered it and said he had to return something to me and of course it was all just fucking bullshit.”

“Felix.” Ashe’s voice was soft, but it pinned Felix to his seat. He fixed Felix with glassy green eyes, eyes glazed from crying. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Felix went cold. His heart stopped dead. Still, he asked, “What’s not a good idea?”

“Us.”

“Ashe, please. No. Let me...”

Ashe shook his head. “It was always a bad idea. I’ll never understand what it was like for you growing up. I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal, but clearly I was wrong.”

“It’s not like. I don’t … I don’t care about him. It was a mistake. One mistake. I didn’t even want to go to his stupid apartment. He said...”

Ashe snuffed out the joint and stood. Felix scrambled to follow him to the door. “Ashe, please.”

Ashe paused at the door, but he had his keys in his hand. “You know, I wouldn’t even care if you wanted to be open or poly or whatever,” he said. “I just care that it was _him_. I care that you apparently didn’t even want to do it.” 

He reached for Felix, kissed him so tenderly Felix could have wept. 

“Take care, Felix.”

Then, he left.

Felix was alone.

#

His phone buzzed.

At first, he would check it, hoping it was Ashe. 

It never was.

It was always Sylvian, at least for the first few days. 

When Sylvain got no answer that way, he tried other means. Felix started getting angry messages from Ingrid asking what the hell Felix was thinking coming onto Sylvain while he was dating Ashe. He got a long, eloquent but equally scolding email from Dimitri. He even got a damn letter from Annette, folded neatly and sealed with a sticker, but somehow the most threatening out of the bunch.

Felix didn’t have the energy to argue with any of them. He didn’t know what Sylvain was telling them, but he was sure it wasn’t true. 

It didn’t matter. 

His phone went on buzzing. New accusations. Or so he presumed. He stopped checking. He let the damn thing die, wishing he could as easily wither away from simple neglect. 

Someone knocked at his door. Felix startled, jolting upright on the couch where he’d been sleeping for the past week. 

The pounding came again. “Fe, open up.” 

Felix tensed. 

“Come on,” Sylvain shouted through the door. “People are getting worried about you. Can you just yell at me or something so we know you’re alive in there?”

“Fuck off.” 

“Felix.” 

“Fuck. Off.” 

Felix heard Sylvain’s weight lean against the door. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, but no one else would do it. Ingrid is furious. Dimitri isn’t much better. Ashe definitely isn’t coming by here. You do _not_ want to see what Annette would do to you if she thought she could get in here. I’m the only one who cares if you’re still breathing. So will just let me in?”

Felix stumbled to his feet. His head swirled – a combination of lying on the couch all day and smoking more weed than he’d ever consumed in his life. He stomped toward the door, determined to open it just to slam it back in Sylvain’s face. But the moment he unlocked it Sylvain forced his way inside. 

“Get out,” Felix said. “Go away.”

“You’re the one who let me in just now. You must want me here.”

“I let you in so I could tell you to go fuck yourself. And I have. So go.” 

“Stop it,” Sylvain said. He appraised the apartment as though Felix wasn’t standing there with murder in his eyes. “This place stinks. Goddess, have you taken a shower in the past week? Have you eaten?”

He didn’t wait for answers, taking Felix by the shoulders to direct him back to the couch.

Felix could do little but remain there, numb, as Sylvain rummaged through his kitchen, returning with a microwaved bowl of Cup o’ Noodles. 

“It’s better than nothing,” Sylvain said. “You look like a damn skeleton. Eat. Don’t make me feed you. I’m not as good a cook as Ashe, but I’m trying, OK?”

Felix took the bowl despite himself, poking at the noodles with a spoon.

“We’ll work on the shower later, though you better not expect me to wash you or something. You have laundry in here? What’s clean? When’s the last time you actually changed? Or shaved, for that matter. You’re lookin’ scruffy. It’s cute, but still, not your best look.” 

“What do you want?” Felix said.

“Can I care about you for two seconds without you thinking it’s some fucked up game? I’m just trying to make sure you don’t wither away into nothing. God, you’re acting like I’m here to throw you over my shoulder and carry you away.”

Felix glared at him.

“Oh, c’mon, it was a mistake,” Sylvain said. “On both our parts. We talked too long. We drank too much. It was just stupid. It happens. You don’t think that I had that all planned out the whole time, do you?”

That question had hounded Felix like dogs after a scent for the past week. Sylvain certainly had the capacity to plan something like that, but it had all felt so natural, so accidental, a long, slow fall with an inevitable landing. 

“It’s getting cold,” Sylvain said. “Stop glaring at me and just eat already.”

“Not hungry.”

“You still need to eat. You can’t survive on guilt and hate, as much as you might wish you could.”

Sylvain scooted closer on the couch, tucking Felix’s unkempt hair behind his ear. “You know I’m only here because I care about you, right? I didn’t come here for sex or something. Honestly. I just wanted to see how you were. I thought I owed you at least that much. I know I screwed up the other night. I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it. We were both just … caught up in the moment.”

He was speaking too softly, leaning too close to Felix’s ear, contradicting every word with his body. Felix held absolutely still, a deer caught in the middle of a highway, death hurtling toward him from both directions.

“Please eat, Felix. No one wants to see you get hurt. Least of all Ashe.”

Felix’s throat closed up around a knot. “Shut up,” he rasped.

“He’s doing OK, you know?” Sylvain said. “I mean, he’s a good-looking guy. Charming, sweet, great cook. It wasn’t exactly gonna be tough for him to find someone. I don’t know if it’s serious or whatever, but he seems really happy. I haven’t met the other guy yet, but I’m sure Ashe will bring him around eventually.

“I heard they even adopted a cat already,” Sylvain went on. “Pretty cute, right? I can just imagine Ashe with a whole litter. He’s got that nurturer thing going on. It’s no wonder everyone who meets him instantly loves him. Imagine if jerks like us could be that charming without even trying.”

Felix didn’t hear the rest of what Sylvain said. His mind hissed with static, his breath trapped in his aching chest. Ashe had moved on. Just like that. 

Of course he had. Felix had betrayed him in the worst possible way. At least he was happy, right? At least he wasn’t wallowing in his own filth, begrudging his beating heart every time he woke up without it stopped dead in his chest. Ashe deserved to be happy. He deserved to move on. To leave this behind. 

Sylvain rubbed circles on Felix’s back. He eased the cold soup out of Felix’s hands, setting it on the table. 

“You need to move on, too,” Sylvain said. “You deserve to be happy.”

Felix doubted that, but he didn’t bother saying it. He was limp as a doll when Sylvain drew him to his feet, guiding him to his bedroom. 

“Get some rest,” Sylvain said. 

But he didn’t leave. He stripped Felix slowly, almost reverently, but stripped him all the same. He touched him, ran his hands down Felix’s body, kissed the places he’d bruised just a week prior, coaxed out responses Felix despised. 

Felix closed his eyes, put his arms around Sylvain’s neck, grit his teeth around the gasps in this throat. It was easy to do nothing, to just let it happen. He’d already cut himself this way once; what was one more scar? And Sylvain was more than happy to take what he wanted.

“Do you want me to leave?” Sylvain said afterward. 

Felix turned onto his side. “Do whatever you want.”

Sylvain snuggled up against Felix’s back, draping an arm over his waist, sighing contentment into his hair. 

He stayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so much to [Foo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23690218/chapters/56877544) and [Lines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25092508), who were my betas and gave me a lot of helpful guidance on this challenging piece! I linked to two of their stories I like. Check them out!
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer has passed to winter. Ashe has been out of Felix's life for some time and Sylvain ... Sylvain has become more and more a part of every moment of Felix's day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLIGHT SPOILER/EXTRA CONTENT WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER:
> 
> **This chapter includes a depiction of a panic attack during sex.**
> 
> If you want to skip this scene, please skip the second scene. Specifically, skip from "his wrists hurt" to "Felix left for work."

“We’re going out today, babe.”

Felix had hardly made it through the door when Sylvain wrapped him in his arms. Felix dropped his gym bag on the floor. 

“I’m gross,” Felix said. His voice was muffled by Sylvain’s chest.

“Don’t care,” Sylvain said, peppering him with kisses.

Felix pushed away and started stripping off sweaty workout clothes. He undressed right there in the living room, leaving his shirt and shorts on the floor as he padded to the bedroom to find clean things. 

It hadn’t been a surprise to see Sylvain in his apartment. He was here more often than he was at his own place these days. Even in his own room, Felix rifled through Sylvain’s clothes to find any of his own. 

Felix straightened when Sylvain rubbed a hand over his ass.

“Where are we going?” Felix said. He stepped away, tried to create space, but Sylvain kept following as Felix backed toward the bathroom with clean clothes hugged against him.

“Ah-ah. The game’s no fun if you spoil the surprise,” Sylvain said. 

Felix reached the bathroom. He put up a hand, keeping Sylvain at arm’s length. “Don’t follow.”

“Aw, c’mon. You look so good right after the gym.”

“I want to shower in peace.” 

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Fine. But hurry. We have reservations.”

Felix enjoyed the breath of space the shower afforded him, taking longer than strictly necessary, luxuriating in the peace and quiet. It was strange to be alone so infrequently these days. Ashe had always understood when Felix needed a little space, had taken some himself from time to time. He certainly hadn’t kept an entire damn wardrobe at Felix’s apartment. 

Felix turned the water down, let the sudden blast of cold jolt him out of his thoughts. It had been months, but that hole in his chest still ached when he let it. 

Sylvain was pacing in the living room by the time Felix emerged, hair still damp but restrained in a tight bun. 

“You should let it loose,” Sylvain said as they both put on shoes and gathered keys and coats. 

Felix ignored the remark and headed into the hall. “Are you coming?” 

Sylvain skipped out after him, locking Felix’s door with his copy of the key. He took Felix’s hand, leading him out to the parking lot. 

As he drove, Sylvain shifted to other topics, his voice dulling to a drone while Felix watched the road roll by. It lulled him, let his mind drift into numbing static, at least until they pulled into the parking lot of an Italian restaurant with a cream-colored facade. 

Felix sat up straighter. 

“Let’s go,” Sylvain said. “We’re a couple minutes late.”

Felix couldn’t feel his legs. He floated out of the car, past the spot on the sidewalk where contorni and orecchiette had spilled disastrously, entered a restaurant decorated with faux Italian stucco. He didn’t find his voice until they were seated in a booth lit by a candle. 

“Why here?” Felix said.

“Huh? Cuz you like this place, don’t you?”

Felix ground his teeth. 

“What do you want?” Sylvain said. “That orecchiette thing Ashe ordered was good, wasn’t it?”

Felix’s jaw tightened. When the waiter arrived, he ordered something he’d never heard of, something he couldn’t pronounce. He didn’t care what it was as long as it wasn’t _that_. 

“Hey, what’s with you?” Sylvain said halfway through the meal. “You’re quiet, even for you.”

“Nothing,” Felix said.

“Fe, I know that’s a lie.” Sylvain reached across the table, taking Felix’s hand, rubbing his course thumb over Felix’s knuckles. “Tell me what’s going on. You love this place, right?”

“I love...” 

“You’ve hardly eaten.” 

Felix looked down at the heap on his plate. He’d picked at it, but his stomach was coiled so tightly that every bite was torture, feed for a foie gras goose.

Felix slipped from Sylvain’s grasp without another word, hurrying toward the restroom before Sylvain could call out for him. 

He made it to a stall, locked himself inside, breathed with his back pressed to the cool plastic. Felix hunched over, his stomach roiling. He stumbled to his knees as the little he’d managed to eat came back up, expelled in watery strands into the toilet. 

Felix wiped at his mouth. His stomach felt better empty. It had less to clutch at. But his legs were boneless when he stood and his hands trembled as he washed them. 

What had possessed Sylvain to choose this of all restaurants? Surely, he knew. Sylvain was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Sylvain understood people with a keenness Felix wholly lacked and even Felix could have called this for the terrible idea it was. 

Maybe he simply thought it’d been long enough. Almost six months had passed since Felix was here, a whole half a year slipping away since that disastrous night. The days had turned cold, the streets icy. No more lounging about in warm summer air; now, winter’s breath turned everything inhospitable and bleak. 

By the time Felix returned to the table, his food was packed up in a to-go box. 

Sylvain wrapped an arm around him. “Let’s get out of here. You don’t look like you’re doing too hot.”

Felix might have argued that he was fine, but he felt too hollow to bother.

#

His wrists hurt. The restrains cut into them, the silk of two of Sylvain’s ties cinching off the circulation to his fingers.

Felix balled his hands into fists, gritting his teeth.

His wrists weren’t the only thing that hurt. 

He’d agreed to this, he reminded himself. Or, at least, he hadn’t said no.

When they’d gotten home, he’d smoked. “For my stomach,” he’d said, an explanation Sylvain seemed to accept. But the weed left his mouth dry and his jaw locked. He didn’t say no, but he didn’t say much of anything else either as Sylvain tied him to the bed. 

Sylvain spoke enough for the both of them. 

“You’re so hot like this,” he rasped, plunging into Felix. “You look so good. Tell me how bad you want it.” 

He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Sylvain went on anyway.

“Ask me to let you come.” 

The words heated the stale air of the bedroom. They scratched over Felix’s skin like nails raking down his body. He wasn’t sure how many of them were real. They all overlapped in his mind, the sounds of a dozen other similar nights fighting for space in his ears. Surely, some were mere ghosts, specters here to haunt him, to stoke the panic clawing its way up his throat.

Something squeezed his lungs tight, breathless little wheezes fluttering up from his chest. Felix felt delirious on insufficient sips of air. His eyes were still open, he realized, but the darkness of his bedroom crowded in at the edges of his vision. He may as well have been blindfolded. 

And all the while Sylvain was on top of him, thrusting, grunting, sweating, bruising Felix with the fingers digging into his hips. Did he take the gasps for sighs, the wheezes for moans? Was he oblivious? Or did he simply not care? 

Sylvain paused, left Felix trapped there, a pawn caught between rooks. 

“Ask,” Sylvain said. “Nicely.” 

Felix pried his teeth apart. He didn’t want to speak. He didn’t want to beg. But surrendering was the only move that would put an end to the game. 

“Please.” 

Sylvain smiled. “That’s what I like.”

Felix closed up after that. His jaw, his eyes, his aching chest. He’d missed a few of the plays made along this path, the subtle decisions that had placed him in this moment. Surely, some of the mistakes had been his own, but it was getting harder and harder to remember. 

Sylvain untied him when it was done. For a while, Felix had to wait with Sylvain kissing along his chest, clinging to him in the afterglow, tracing his body with those clutching fingers. 

When he could, Felix slipped away to the bathroom. He planted his hands on the lip of the sink, hunching over, watching the water run. His wrists were red. He’d have to find some excuse to wear gloves or long sleeves at work. Fortunately, it was cold now. 

He shut off the water and slinked back to bed. Felix tried to lay down quietly, hoping Sylvain might already be asleep, but the moment he settled on the mattress Sylvain rolled toward him, one arm heavy around Felix’s middle to trap him against Sylvain’s chest.

#

Felix left for work the next day, but never actually arrived.

He waited in the parking lot of the fast food joint across the street until he saw Sylvain’s car go by. Then he returned home, called in sick and locked himself in his apartment.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing. He just knew he couldn’t see other people. Not today. He had to be alone for once, completely alone. 

He cleaned. He washed the sheets. He smoked while he worked, falling into a hazy lull made of repetition and numbing smoke. 

His mind instantly cleared when his doorknob rattled. Felix snapped upright, watching the door with wide eyes and a broom in one hand as he stood on the linoleum in the kitchen. 

The door creaked open. 

Ashe froze, gaping at Felix.

“Hi.”

Felix swallowed. “Hey.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Ashe said. “I just wanted to get something I forgot.” 

“How did you do that? Did you just pick the lock?”

Ashe blushed. “Yeah.”

“How often have you done that?”

“Uh, n-not that much. I swear. You … you should really use the deadbolt. Can’t pick that...”

“Right.”

Gods, that time, that time when Ashe had been here waiting, that time after Sylvain... Felix hadn’t even realized back then that Ashe must have broken in. Unlike Sylvian, he’d never had his own key for the place.

“Well, whatever you’re looking for...” Felix waved at the apartment. 

“Right,” Ashe said. “Thanks.” 

He headed for the bedroom. Felix went back to sweeping the kitchen floor, or tried to. He was still brushing at the same clean spot when Ashe entered the kitchen. 

Felix braced. It was a small space, really only made for one, like the rest of the apartment. The last time they’d both been in here Ashe had been at the stove, trying to teach Felix how to cook while Felix hugged him close and nipped at his neck. In the end, Felix hadn’t learned a damn thing and the water had boiled over while they were still tangled in each other on the couch. 

He set the memory aside, despite the warmth it stirred in his gut. 

“You find it?” Felix said.

Ashe lifted a T-shirt. “Yeah. It’s tough when our clothes are the same size. I think I lost half my wardrobe here.”

“Well, any time you need something, I can check. Or whatever.”

“Thanks.” 

Ashe trailed off. He was shifting from foot to foot, staring at the tiles. Felix knew he had something on his mind even before he said, “So, Sylvain moved in?”

“No.” The answer came out too quickly. “He still has his own place.” 

“Seems like an awful lot of his stuff is here.” 

“He’s just lazy.”

“I hope so, Felix.” 

A dagger stabbed into Felix’s chest. There was far too much pity in Ashe’s tone. 

He stabbed back. It was all he knew how to do.

“Heard you moved on pretty quick,” Felix said. 

“What?” 

“I heard you were dating someone like a week after … everything. Got a cat or something.”

Ashe’s eyebrows shot up. “Goddess, not even close. I haven’t done much but cry for months. Who told you that?” Ashe laughed at himself, dry and bitter. “I’m a wreck.”

He didn’t look it. In fact, he looked even better than Felix remembered, those green eyes so large and lovely, his face soft, scattered with freckles. Felix’s fingers ached to tuck a loose strand of pale hair behind Ashe’s ear.

“Sorry,” Felix said. “Guess I heard wrong.”

Ashe stepped closer, so close he could reach out and touch Felix’s shoulder. “Hey, are you OK?”

Felix gripped the broom so tightly he thought he might snap the handle right off. “Yeah.”

“You don’t look it.”

Felix didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know what to do except hold onto that broom like a buoy in a storm. Why did Ashe see through him so easily? Why couldn’t he just accept the lie and leave? 

Felix wanted to run, but that light touch on his shoulder tethered him like an anchor. He leaned into it, a stone heaved into the ocean and helplessly sinking. The broom fell with a clatter as Felix slipped his arms around Ashe, burying his head against Ashe’s shoulder. 

Ashe said nothing, but neither did he pull away, letting Felix stay there in his arms. He smelled so nice, like fresh mint leaves and sunlight. His hold was gentle, unassuming. Felix could step away any moment, but that only made him want more desperately to stay. 

He pulled away only far enough to cup Ashe’s face in his hands. Felix pressed his forehead against Ashe’s, enjoying the taste of his breath in the air they now shared, like strawberries and violets, like summer. He leaned in--

Ashe put a finger to Felix’s lips. 

“Why?” Felix said.

Ashe held Felix’s head in both hands, smiling mournfully at him. “You’re not going to use me to hurt yourself more.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“I know,” Ashe said. 

“What should I do?”

“Start by giving a shit about yourself. I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.”

“I need you now,” Felix said.

Ashe shook his head. “Not like this. I love you, but you don’t care about yourself enough to love me back.” 

He slipped from Felix’s grasp and out of the apartment. Felix could do nothing but watch him go. Alone. Horribly alone.

#

Felix’s phone buzzed. It buzzed and buzzed and buzzed, a constant presence, a bird perched on his shoulder and pecking at his skull all day long, never leaving him in peace.

It was almost always Sylvain, who’d developed a habit of carrying on conversations through text all day, until he continued them in person at night. It made it so Felix was never alone, so no part of his day wasn’t cataloged and timestamped.

Sometimes, though, it was Ashe.

Those little texts – often something minor, a “saw this movie and thought you’d like it” or a “found your razor in my bathroom” – were like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Felix answered. Single sentences. Single words. The sunbreak was short-lived and precious and fleeting.

He knew well they meant nothing so long as he went on living as he was. It made him dizzy to sit there on the couch at night under Sylvain’s arm, re-reading texts from Ashe, hoping for a new message that he knew wouldn’t come. 

Sylvain shifted. Felix tucked his phone away and tried to care about the game show on the television.

“Popular.”

“Hm?” 

“Your phone,” Sylvain said. “You keep checking it. Waiting for something?”

Felix shook his head against Sylvain’s chest. The arm around him was starting to feel like chain, a silken restraint. “Co-worker.” 

“Didn’t realize you worked with Ashe.”

Felix’s blood turned to ice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?”

Felix struggled out from under that arm, putting a breath of space between him and Sylvain. “No, I don’t.” 

Sylvain laughed liked broken glass, sharp and cutting. “I saw you.”

“So what? I’m not allowed to look at my own phone?”

“Not when it’s texts from your ex-boyfriend, Felix, come on.”

“They’re old,” Felix said. “If you really need to know.”

“Oh, swell. So you’re merely pining for him and not just fucking him.”

“I’m not fucking him. When would I even have time? You’re here every day.”

Sylvain’s face closed up. He surged up off the couch, storming to his feet and toward the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Felix called. 

He heard clothing rifling. When Sylvain returned, he had his coat and was stuffing his keys into his pocket.

“Leaving,” he said.

“Why?” Felix hated himself for the way that sounded, for how weak and pathetic it was, for how cold he felt alone on the couch. 

“Clearly you don’t even want me here,” Sylvain said. He started for the door. 

Felix rose. “Stop being an idiot.”

Sylvain whirled toward him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Fine.”

Sylvain jabbed him in the chest with a finger. “I’m not stupid. I know what I saw. Do you think this is a game?”

“I told you, it’s old messages. It’s nothing. Gods, think for a second. When do you honestly believe I’d have time to fuck him?”

“I don’t know,” Sylvain said. His face was nearly as red as his hair, his breathing audible. “I don’t know if you have or you just really, really want to, but either way--” 

He turned away. The door slammed before Felix had time to do more than watch Sylvain leave. 

Felix pressed his hands and forehead against the door. “Fuck,” he spat. “ _Fuck._ ” 

It was just texts. It was just stupid texts about movies and razors and nothing, nothing at all. It shouldn’t have mattered. Even Sylvain leaving shouldn’t have mattered. Maybe it was even for the best. Maybe Felix should stay away from everyone, should just board up the door and not let Sylvain or Ashe or anyone else try to force their ways back into his miserable excuse for a--

Tires squealed. There was a crash, a horrible, breathless silence. 

Screams. 

He knew. Even before he forced himself away from the door, even before he stumbled numbly through his apartment, even before he fell to his knees at the windowsill-- 

He knew what he’d find in the road.

Sylvain, his body twisted at horrible angles, his blood splattered across the pavement.

#

The plastic of the chair dug into Felix’s thighs. After so many hours here, he wondered if he was fusing with the damn thing, a fate he didn’t dread as much as he ought.

Footsteps approached but Felix didn’t bother lifting his head. 

“He’ll be fine,” Ingrid said somewhere above him.

“OK.”

“Broken leg. Lacerations. Minor concussion. Could have been a lot worse.”

“Great.”

“Felix.” 

The bite in her voice drew his gaze up. Dorothea was beside her, Dedue and Dimitri behind. Dimitri looked like he wanted to lunge at Felix. Dedue just looked … pitying. Somehow that was worse.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” Ingrid said, “but this is a new low. Even for you.”

“Thanks,” Felix drawled. 

Ingrid’s jaw jerked as she clenched her teeth, her face tinged with color. Dorothea tugged on her arm. Perhaps that was all that spared Felix getting punched then and there. Ingrid spun on her heel, stomping down the pallid halls of the hospital. 

“Felix,” Dimitri said.

“What?” Felix snapped, cutting him off. He didn’t want to hear it. Not from Dimitri. Not from Ingrid. Not from any of them. They’d barely been part of his life for the past six months anyway.

“You seem unwell.” Anger lowered Dimitri’s tone. He was nearly trembling with the effort to restrain himself. 

“I’m fine.” 

“He’s really hurt badly,” Dimtiri said. “This isn’t a game.”

“I know.”

“Then--”

Dedue took Dimitri by the wrist. Dimitri looked to his partner, who just shook his head.

Dedue still had a hold on Dimitri’s wrist when Dimitri leaned close enough to jab a finger at Felix’s chest.

“Consider your actions.”

Then, finally, he straightened, turning away, Dedue following him down the hall.

Felix sighed, letting his head hang heavy. Mercedes and Annette had been by as well. They’d all wanted to check on Sylvain when they heard the news. At least those two hadn’t lectured Felix, though he’d felt Annette’s eyes trying to bore through him during her brief visit. 

It made no difference. They’d hated him before this; they could go on hating him after. 

Felix’s gaze caught on shoes passing by his periphery. Something in him knew those shoes, that gait. He looked up in time to see Ashe. He didn’t approach Felix, didn’t even seem to notice him, but passed right on toward the curtained little space where they were keeping Sylvain before moving him to a proper hospital room for night. 

Felix shivered, freezing in that stupid plastic chair, his hands clasped so tightly his knuckles drained to white. His mind whirled, skipping from one dire prediction to the next.

He lurched to his feet, heading in the direction Ashe had gone. Doctors and nurses filtered by, none paying him any mind as he passed. This area was just for initial screenings. It was where they’d rolled Sylvain in right from the ambulance. Curtains partitioned off makeshift “rooms” for the patients waiting on more detailed diagnoses.

Felix paused outside one such curtain, the curtain he knew Sylvain lay behind. He fingered the fabric, but hesitated, loitering outside it. He could just catch the voices beyond.

“...glad it’s not worse.” Ashe, soft and gentle and genuine. 

A bitter laugh, Sylvain’s. “Are you?”

“Of course I am. If you need anything, you know you can ask, right?”

“Sure.”

A heavy pause. 

“How did this happen?” Ashe said. 

“Ah, it was stupid. But you know how Felix’s temper gets.”

“No, I don’t.”

Felix didn’t need to peer past the curtains to feel Sylvain’s gaze sharpening then. 

“Look,” Sylvain said, tone hardening, “if you’re just here to break us up or something, give it up. You’ve failed before and you’ll fail now. I know about all your little texts, alright?”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Isn’t it?” Sylvain said.

A sigh. A shuffle as though someone had gone from sitting to standing. “I wanted to see how you were, but I think I should just leave you alone.” 

A high note of surprise. A grunt and scuffle. Felix nearly tore the curtain aside as he heard what must have been Sylvain stopping Ashe by force. 

“You lost,” Sylvain snarled, low and dangerous. 

“Oh,” Ashe said, “I wasn’t aware it was a game.” 

“Everything is a game. No matter what people tell you, they’re always competing with you. They’re always trying to get something from you before you can take it from them. That’s just how life is.”

Ashe’s voice never changed, never roughened even at the furthest edges. Perhaps that’s what made it so chilling. 

“That’s a really pathetic excuse for the way you treat people, Sylvain.” 

There was no response. Felix had only a moment to notice quiet footsteps and scramble back before Ashe emerged from the curtain. 

He stopped, looking directly at Felix. His voice hadn’t changed but his eyes were sharp, like all that soft, mossy green had chipped and broken. 

Felix waited, breathless, but Ashe said nothing before he left Felix in the hall.

#

It was quiet. So, so quiet.

Felix remembered the sound, or, rather, the lack thereof. 

With Sylvain still in the hospital, he had his apartment to himself for the first time in months. It was colder without all that heat and energy flying around, but it was also quieter. So much quieter.

He started in the bedroom. He simply meant to organize the drawers, separate Sylvain’s clothing from his own. When Sylvain got out of the hospital, he’d probably be in a cast and not very mobile. He’d need to be able to reach his own stuff easily. 

That’s what Felix told himself as he started reorganizing the drawers. And if Sylvain’s clothing ended up set aside in a box, that was purely temporary, purely to help Felix compartmentalize. 

Then he found the notes, so many, all stuffed in the drawer on Felix’s side of the bed. Some were endearing enough – “miss you,” “drew this for you,” “thinking of you” – but others were nothing. Grocery lists, scrawled notes about movies, fragments of song lyrics. All written by Sylvain and sitting in Felix’s bedside drawer. 

Felix put them all in the box with the clothes. He could decide which ones to keep later. 

Later. 

It wasn’t just the bedroom. Felix set about uncluttering the rest of the apartment. He found shoes, belts, jackets, leftover food, magnets, an old library card, a keychain from some show Felix had never seen. And the spare key, which Sylvain had apparently neglected to take with him when he’d stormed out the other day. 

The leftovers went in the trash; the rest went in the box. 

It was overflowing by the time Sylvain returned. 

He crutched into the apartment, his leg in a thick cast already signed by Dimitri and Ingrid, who’d driven him here. 

“Hey, baby,” he said when Felix let him in. He leaned in for a peck.

Felix should have asked how he was, but he never got the chance.

Sylvain’s smile withered as his eyes fell on the box. “The hell is that?”

“I was cleaning.”

“Is that all my stuff? Felix, what the fuck?”

“I was just organizing,” Felix said. 

“Then why is all my shit in some box like you’re about to throw it out?” Sylvain said.

“I didn’t finish. Calm down.” 

“No,” Sylvain shouted. “I want to know what’s going on. I swear to the goddess, if Ashe is here somewhere--”

“He’s not here. I haven’t even talked to him in days. Will you stop?”

“Gods, Fe. I was in the _hospital_. With a broken leg, among other things. A broken leg that is not insignificantly _your_ fault.”

“How the fuck is it my fault?” Felix said. Now his voice was rising as well, goaded on by Sylvain.

“Are you serious?” Sylvain laughed. “Frankly, you’re lucky I don’t make it more your fault.”

“What’s that mean?”

Sylvain sneered. “What do you imagine would happen if Dimitri and Ingrid and the rest knew you kicked me out in a state like that? What do you think people would say if they heard that I was afraid of that temper of yours?”

Felix blanched. “Are you serious? You stormed out and ran into the street. I wasn’t even there.”

“I stormed out because of _you_ , because you lied to me.”

Felix threw up his hands. “I didn’t lie.”

“You’re fucking him.”

Felix turned away, stomped off at a speed he knew Sylvain could no longer match. He set his hands on the windowsill at the far end of the room, dragging breaths between clenched teeth. 

Crutches tapped toward him.

Felix whirled toward the sound. “Leave.” 

Sylvain stopped, face slack with shock. Perhaps he hadn’t anticipated that particular move. Perhaps Felix had found the one play that gave him the upper hand.

“Go,” Felix said. “Get out. Take your shit.”

“How do you think I’m gonna carry that box?”

“Then I’ll mail it to you. Just leave.”

Sylvain paused, face pale, lips a bloodless line. “You know I have more,” he said quietly, far too quietly. “A lot more. Pictures. Videos. I have a fucking hard drive worth.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Believe what you want, but if you play this little game you’ll find out.”

Felix’s stomach clenched around the thought of his co-workers, his father, the whole damn internet seeing him getting fucked a thousand ways by Sylvain, but he stood his ground and raised his hand, pointing at the door. 

Surprisingly, Sylvain crutched toward it, only stopping at the lip. 

“Let’s talk tomorrow,” he said. “OK? You’re in a bad mood. I get it. Let’s just calm down and talk tomorrow.”

Felix had no desire to talk. Not tomorrow. Not any day. But he grit out an “OK” in order to push Sylvain the final few steps out of his apartment.

#

His phone buzzed.

His phone rang.

For days on end, it never went silent.

When Felix turned the damn thing off, he heard pounding on his door instead. 

Sylvain stood in the hall, screaming for Felix, causing so much commotion Felix was sure one of his neighbors would call the cops any second. 

Felix flung his door open to find Sylvain there on his crutches, red-faced from yelling, balancing on his good leg.

“I’m done,” Felix said before Sylvain could speak.

“You’re not done,” Sylvain said.

“I’m done, Sylvain. It’s over.”

“We promised--”

“Yeah, in fucking _high school_. We were kids and we’ve never been happy since. I’ve never been happy.”

Sylvain’s lips curled into an ugly snarl. “You just want to go back to him.”

“This isn’t about Ashe.”

“Then what is it about?”

Felix bent, snatching his spare key out of the box overflowing with Sylvain’s belongings. He shoved the box out into the hall. “It’s about me.” 

Sylvain did not respond before Felix slammed the door.

Felix spun, leaning against the locked door, heart thundering in his ears. He waited, but he heard nothing on the other side, nothing at all. Then the soft click of the crutches faded away toward the parking lot.

Felix remained against the door, heart still roaring. He let out a shaky breath, part sigh, part broken laughter, and slid to the floor. 

He dug for his phone. His hands trembled as he turned it back on and scrolled through texts, finding his most recent exchange with Ashe. His finger hovered over the keyboard.

No.

Felix hit the power button, shut the whole phone off, slid it across the floor for good measure.

Then he sat there, his head in his hands, alternating between laughing and crying, not sure which one was right, only sure there was no one around to hear him. He was alone. He was alone. 

Alone. 

Goddess, it felt good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


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